


stuck where you don't want to be

by Anonymous



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Being stuck in a prison lock down is never a good thing.  Being stuck on the wrong side of the lock down is even worse.  Especially if you’re a cop, and the most important person in the world to you is stuck there, too.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30
Collections: anonymous





	stuck where you don't want to be

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly getting posted because I watched LDP in Numb3rs and decided I really needed a prison au of some sort, and while this is NOT that, it is something I had laying around and decided I might as well post because at least it's something.
> 
> Special thanks to my noncon muse. You know who you are.

Being stuck in a prison lockdown is never a good thing. Being stuck on the wrong side of the lockdown is even worse. Especially if you’re a cop.

The inmates take Gil’s gun easily, subdue him and Malcolm with barely any fight. How could they fight? There’s two of them and 20 angry prisoners.

Not all of them want trouble. Many of the men go back to their cells, eager to show that they had no part in the situation, knowing that when the smoke clears they will still be stuck in prison.

But enough of them don’t feel that way. Six or seven gather in one of the rec rooms where they’d brought Malcolm and Gil. Their hands are cuffed behind them and they’ve both been worked over pretty well already, the men taking turns getting in their hits while they can. Only one of them is there because of Gil, and he’s the ring leader, the instigator.

He’s the one who suggests having some fun while they can, enjoying some fresh meat.

They start with Malcolm. Of course they do, he’s the definition of prison bait--small, prissy (in their eyes) with lips that are made to be wrapped around a cock.

They aren’t brutal, though. Not with Malcolm. They coddle him, strip him then admire him, fondling and teasing and touching, put him on his knees and pass him around like a party favor, rubbing themselves on his face, against his lips but not really  _ partaking _ . They’re waiting, drawing it out, causing him more discomfort than if they’d just brutalized him because now he’s hard and aching. One of the men starts to suck  _ him _ off and he comes down his throat  _ hard _ , sobbing in desperation and overstimulation when the man doesn’t pull off, when they keep touching, pinching and flicking at his nipples, nibbling at the sensitive skin on his neck.

It’s not about him, he realizes. It’s about Gil.

Gil’s tied firmly to a chair, watching it all go down, tears streaming down his cheeks as he screams curses, begs and pleads for them to stop, to leave Malcolm alone. They don’t.

Finally, the man Gil put away— Thomas Kain— takes a seat and pulls Malcolm into his lap. He’s naked and shaking, eyes glazed over in shock still and he doesn’t resist, barely reacts when Kain presses the muzzle of Gil’s gun against his head where it’s tilted back against Kain’s shoulder.

“You’re turn, Arroyo,” Kain declares. “Behave, or your boy gets a bullet in his brain.”

The prisoners free Gil from the chair, throw him to the floor and strip him, too.

They drag him over till he’s lying next to a support beam and fasten his wrists to it, lay him out so his arms are stretched out above his head, his body bared to them.

Gil snarls, twisting and fighting as they surround him, get their hands on him and work to hold him down, one man crawling his way between his legs and starting to line up.

“Wait, wait…” Malcolm mumbles, pressing weakly against Kain’s chest.

“We’re not going to take you instead, little boy. We already got you,” Kain says, huffing out a laugh.

“Not, no… that’s not. You have to… you’ll hurt him,” Malcolm stammers, cheeks flaming red as he struggles to express exactly why he’d begged them to stop.

“You think we care about hurting the old man while we rape him?” Kain scoffs.

“You could kill him,” Malcolm points out.

Kain considers him for a moment, a grin spreading across his face.

“Fine. If you’re so concerned, you can do it.”

He stands, tossing Malcolm roughly to the ground as he does, then bends down and buries his hand in Malcolm’s hair, dragging him over and throwing him down in front of Gil.

“Get him wet. Loosen him up. Let’s see how skilled that tongue of yours really is.”

“W-what?” Malcolm asks, eyes wide in shock as he looks between Gil and Kain.

“Eat his ass out. You want him loose and wet? You do it.”

Malcolm doesn’t move, can’t. His mind is racing as he struggles to come to terms with what’s happening.

Kain crouches down, runs the gun along Malcolm’s cheek.

“Do it now, or we take him, just like this. And if he breaks, that’ll be on you.”

“Malcolm, don’t… you don’t have to do this,” Gil calls out, face white as he looks down at where Malcolm is huddled next to his hip.

“No, no its… I can. I, I want to. I won’t let them hurt you, not like that,” Malcolm tells him, meeting his eyes only long enough to give him a small, sad smile.

He lays down, settles himself between Gil’s legs and positions his legs over his shoulders, giving him access to Gil’s hole.

He doesn’t tease, but he is thorough, does what he can to get Gil loose and wet. Gil tense beneath him at first, but it doesn’t take long before he gives in to the sensation, till he relaxes into the feel of Malcolm’s tongue. He gets hard, too, groaning weakly when he can’t bear to keep the noise in any longer.

Someone grabs Malcolm’s ankle and yanks him back and he cries out in surprise and pain as his bare skin is scraped up by the rough concrete floor. Kain gather’s him up into his lap once more, gun to his head, reaching down with his free hand to fondle Malcolm’s half-hard cock.

“Oh, you enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he chuckles.

Malcolm whimpers but doesn’t deny it.

The first man lines up and enters Gil roughly, doesn’t take any time before he’s setting up a brutal pace. Gil stays silent but Malcolm can see the pain in his face as he takes it.

“Please, please stop,” he begs quietly, though he knows it's pointless.

The man finishes quickly, letting out a loud grunt and burying himself as deep as he can in Gil’s ass as he comes.

“Oh, shit, that was good. Not too bad, old man,” he says, a wicked grin on his face.

A second man steps up.

“Here, help me move him. I want him on his knees.”

They manhandle Gil into position, each time he starts to struggle Kain hisses out a warning, pressing the gun against Malcolm’s head, under his chin. He runs it idly along Malcolm’s stomach and chest as he watches them move Gil into a kneeling position, hands bound in front of him to the same pole.

The second man pushes in without any warning and Gil cries out in pain at the intrusion, his hands opening and closing around the pole in front of him as he struggles to take it. He drops his head against the pole, gasping and wincing in pain as the man sets up a steady pace of hard thrusts.

Malcolm starts to cry, begging them to stop once more.

“God, you’ve got a mouth on you, boy,” Kain spits out. He pulls Malcolm to his feet and drags him over to Gil once more, pushes him down to his knees next to the pole. 

“You want to help? Make him feel better. Suck him off.”

Malcolm shudders, shaking his head frantically.

“Oh god, what? No, I… I can’t,” he mumbles, too ashamed to look up at Gil.

“It’s your choice, kid. We’re going to keep fucking him, one by one. You can help, you can make it easier to take, help him enjoy it.”

Malcolm squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, tears streaming down his face. He can hear the  _ slap, slap  _ of flesh as the man behind Gil continues to fuck him, and then Gil cries out softly once, pulling Malcolm from his thoughts and he glances up at Gil’s face, sees how it’s twisted in pain and he makes up his mind, drops to his elbows and takes Gil into his mouth.

“Fuck, Malcolm. What… kid… what are you doing?” Gil gasps out.

Malcolm doesn’t answer, not at first. He works Gil’s cock, sucks and licks till he starts to stiffen. The angle is all wrong, there’s not enough space between Gil’s body and the pole and with each thrust of the man behind him.

Gil groans once more, but this time it isn’t pained, it’s low and needy and Malcolm allows himself a small smile of satisfaction, grateful to know that he’s doing something to ease Gil’s discomfort.

“Malcolm, Malcolm, god. Stop. What… you don’t have to do this,” Gil moans.

Malcolm pulls off with a pop, lets his head hang for a moment to east the tension in his neck.

“It’s okay, Gil. It’s okay, let me… I want to help. Want to make you feel good,” Malcolm whispers before returning his mouth to Gil’s cock.

The man behind Gil lets out a long groan as he comes and Gil sags forward in relieve. It doesn’t last long and another man quickly takes his place.

Malcolm doesn’t stop, but when he suddenly feels hands on his ass, kneading and spreading them he startles, crying out around Gil as a finger slips into him, starts to work him open.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” Gil yells out from above him, jerking futilely against the bonds around his wrist.

“Shut up, Arroyo. You should be grateful, it's one less dick you’ll have to take. And he’s fucking irresistable, that ass, the way he’s wiggling while he sucks you. Have you fucked him, Gil? Someone has… look how he’s opening up for me.”

Malcolm whimpers, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. He and Gil have never… but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t wanted to, doesn’t mean he doesn’t picture the older man when he’s getting fucked senseless in clubs or stranger’s apartments.

Whoever’s behind him pushes in and Malcolm has to pull off so he can clench his teeth together, clamping down on the scream that threatens to break free.

“C’mon, little boy. Put that mouth back where it belongs. Your lips look so pretty wrapped around cock. God, I wanna keep you here, make you our little slut forever. Fuck, you feel so good,” the man behind him moans out as he starts to fuck into him.

Malcolm quickly starts to feel overwhelmed. He swallows Gil down once more but the man fucking into him has set up a brutal pace and Malcolm can barely keep his head still. The man fucking into him is moaning loudly and lewdly, taking his pleasure from Malcolm’s ass with zeal. 

Gil lets out a particularly loud cry as Malcolm seals his lips around him and sucks, hollowing his cheeks and pressing his tongue along the thick vein there. Malcolm feels suddenly light headed, struggling to breathe as he’s overcome with sensation. He starts to see spots and tries to pull off but as he does Gil’s hips thrust forward particularly hard and Malcolm’s head slams against the pole, knocking him unconscious.

Before Gil can react the man fucking into Malcolm leans forward and grips onto his hair, holds his head steady.

“Keep going, Arroyo. Finish in his mouth, or I’ll fucking kill him,” the man demands.

Gil whimpers in frustration but obeys, continues to fuck into the warm heat of Malcolm’s mouth. The man behind him shifts, changes angles and strokes against his prostate and Gil can’t hold back his shout as pleasure surges through him. 

The other men are gathered around, watching, some of them jerking themselves off. Gil can feel the pleasure building low in his belly and he doesn’t fight it, lets the pleasure wash over him and he comes, shooting down Malcolm’s throat and spilling out onto his face.

“Holy shit!” the man fucking Malcolm cries out and then he’s coming too, pulling out to spill across Malcolm’s ass and thighs.

“Who’s next?” Kain calls out, and Gil slumps against his bonds, body shaking and he can’t hold back the broken cry of anger and frustration that’s been building inside him since this all started.

Kain never gets his answer. Seconds later the rescue team breaches the door, literally catching the escapees with their pants around their legs and the ensuing firefight is over in seconds. A wave of emotions crests over Gil and he finds himself forced to focus on simply breathing, in and out. He’s hurting, his whole body aching. He’s worried, so fucking worried for Malcolm, who’s still unconscious, who was assaulted and raped and… and he’s mortified. As the team streams in and takes stock of the situation he almost wishes he were dead. The one small mercy afforded to him, to both of them, is that its a federal prison, and the breach team is made up of federal agents, no cops. Which means, for now, no one on the team will know what happened. 

He watches as they load Malcolm on a stretcher. Whatever else happens, he vows to be there when the kid wakes up. He doesn’t know if Malcolm will want him there, will ever want to speak to him again, but what he does know is that their best bet of recovering from this day will be by facing it the same way they have ever since Malcolm saved his life the first night they met--together.


End file.
